A few alterations and the jigsaw goes together like this
All the diners here were sober till
The Desperado beers were drunk. While on
The --- tables crimson candles shone
Illuminating a log pile on the sill,
Never to be burnt, at least not here.
Above the waitresses, hatless, unveiled,
Are black sombreros securely nailed
To walls: were never near a bandolier.
Guitars glued up above remain unstrummed
And music from loudspeakers dominates
Our thoughts and conversation. On our plates
Enchiladas sizzle. Taste buds hum.
In here is hot Mexico ... we can forget
The cold November night, --- and wet.
Two gaps still. I've confidence I can sort that out. This has been a longer process than I thought. Tomorrow I'll put the two poems next to each other and you can judge if the sonnet was worth the effort!